Hmmm… still working through how I feel about this piece, but here it is. Very Maura, though fragmented Maura, and more a journey through her mind and reflections on Season 2 finale. I don't seem to be able to get past it. Inspired by Alanis Morisette's song "ironic," which is mostly just gross or unfortunate more than truly ironic. Also inspired a bit by NCIS episode "Bête Noire." And yes, it does bother me sometimes that Jane treats Maura the way she does, when she makes the casual biting comments in the name of sarcasm.
Maura is sure that many people would say it's ironic that her mother is in ICU right now. For years she wanted nothing more than her parents' affection, and now that she is finally connecting with Constance, finally seeing one another as they truly are… now, her mother was the victim of a hit and run. She's critical, hardly stable, and Maura knows the exact milestones her mother will face before being upgraded to stable, much less fair condition.
No, it isn't ironic. Not in the least. Unexpected? Yes, Unfortunate? Very.
She's sure that any number of others would say it is ironic that after years of searching and wondering, she would find that her biological father is an Irish mob boss. That he followed her all these years, attended special events and her graduations.
Each and every one of those people would be wrong. It's not ironic. Bizarre? Yes. Disconcerting? Terribly. But it isn't ironic. Irony, by definition, is a situation that is quite opposite of what one expected. And Maura has never known what to expect concerning her biological family history.
Maura Isles is sure that, if asked, most people would say that it's ironic that her biological father is lying on the ground, dying at the hands of her best friend. And to that, she has no words. Irony is long gone from her mind (although in a cerebral moment much later she will admit it is neither ironic nor unfortunate, simply devastating).
To nearly lose one parent is enough. Thousands of possibilities lurk, waiting to snatch away Constance Isles's fragile life. There are infections to still skirt, the hundreds of risks with drug interactions, looming possibilities of long lasting disabilities, and the ever present risk of regression into a lasting coma or death. Life and death are beyond her finite grasp, and she is scrambling to grasp any straw she can cling to. Her medical knowledge is too much, her awareness to sharp to miss the minefield of risks ahead for her mother, and her brain will not stop reminding her of possibility after dark possibility.
But to lose a parent. Really… lose. It hasn't truly sunk in, and Maura is reaching for every last bit. Hope. There isn't much to hope for. Her last chance of knowing her biological mother is rasping away with his gasps for air, leaking out with each drop of blood from the two bullet holes.
And Jane is trying to speak her name. That she would dare to speak right now is beyond Maura. Maura needs to listen, and Paddy needs to speak, but the breath is slipping away and the moment draining through her fingers.
"Don't you dare touch him!" she shrieks in protest, sound and fury welling within her. She's not been herself since her mother shoved her from harm's way. Her world tipped, and Maura doesn't know when it will ever return to an even pitch.
It's not irony that comes to mind, but rather the double standard. Of course she's said things to Jane that she regrets over the years. Small comments, once he gets to know you… That one hadn't come out the right way.
But Jane Rizzoli is supposed to be her best friend, and the first she'd really had. There were the snide remarks, sprinkled sparingly but… still present. Cyborg. Wikipedia. She knows it's tiring, sometimes, for Jane to listen to her affinity for etymology. In those moments, she feels every bit of Maura-the-Bore-A, and wishes she could find a tree to climb. She wants a tree now. Somewhere on the far side of the world, hidden in a villa, far from Boston, fires, the mob, and anything reminding her of this day.
When she was a child, a few times she wondered if she might actually be an orphan. For a while, she might have felt an affinity for little Orphan Annie (the classic story line, not the movie). But now that she could very well be an orphan…
Maura swallows hard, ignoring the looks, deafened by the utter silence as the detectives stare at her. She's torn between wanting to run away, wanting to hand it all over to FBI and Boston homicide or arson and let them all fight it out while she hides in ICU with her mother until Constance is stable enough to be transferred to Europe.
There isn't enough air in the building, and while the Fire Chief can't guarantee the safety of the building, Maura can't guarantee the safety of anything any else. She may still be new to the best friends concept, but she's absolutely sure that somewhere in the best friend code it states that best friends don't shoot each others' fathers.
Sitting in her mother's hospital room, the darkness gathered around her, she'll suddenly remember that Dean took his own bullet. And she'll wonder if Jane is in the hospital waiting for him to finish surgery or taking him home after a clean up from a through and through. And then she'll try to convince herself that she doesn't care.
But she does care. And Jane has always been able to get to her in ways that no one else could. The disdain for the marathon clothes hurt, and she can't get around the unfortunate connection between her amydgala and lacrinal glands. She was the one—Maura—who saved Frankie Rizzoli in the midst of Jane's demands and frustrations, despite the crude medical training. It was the horror of escaping from the nightmare of a hostage situation to watch her best friend take the biggest risk of all, the hours and days and weeks afterward trying to put Jane back together physically and find her own stability again.
Despite giving Angela and Tommy a home, despite it all… and then when Tommy ends up at the middle of an investigation and Maura has legal and ethical obligations, it's thrown right back in her face. But most of all, very most of all… best friends don't shoot their best friend's father.
Ironic? No. Her life is nothing like ironic.
Maura slides her chair up the edge of the hospital bed and crooks her arm under her head, suddenly too tired to sit awake any longer. Her eyes will not stay open, and she falls eagerly to escape this all too real bête noire.